Before the Fall
by Nightmare Prince
Summary: Our children were the price for our sins. [Prequel to The Broken Children]
1. Rose I

**Other Stories Set In This Universe:**

 **The Broken Children:** Sequel. It was their parents who'd fought the war, but it was they who bore the scars.

 **We're on Our Way to Rio:** James looks into the mirror and sees something that is broken. Louis looks into his eyes and sees something that doesn't ever need to be fixed.

 **Before the Fall**

 _-Rose-_

" _The devil doesn't come to you with red horns, a forked tail, and a pitchfork. No, she has blue eyes and red hair, and she'll rip out your heart before licking the blood off her fingers."_

 _-Draco's Memoirs, The Price for our Sins_

 **.o0o.**

She first realises that she's not like the other children when she's five years old and her cousin, Louis, comes screaming into the world. Her cousin cries, howls, and shrieks all the time, and it gives her headaches. There's a flicker of remembrance the moment she first hears the yells, because she's heard them before, coming from Lily, Roxanne, and Hugo.

She never cries though. For as long as she can remember, she's never shed a tear, so she fails to comprehend why the other children can't carry on in the same way.

In many ways, she thinks, she's always been the odd one out. People just don't seem to understand her . . . they think there's something wrong with her because she's always silent, content to be on her own.

The howling continues. How she hates these visits to the Burrow when the whole family is here. Albus isn't too bad – he understands her, or at least she thinks he does. The others are just little irritants, even the ones older than her.

That night, when the others are all asleep, she sneaks into her parents' room and picks up her mother's wand. She's tired, so tired, of the wretched sniffles coming from upstairs. So, padding along on bare feet, she climbs the stairs and slips into the room.

Aunt Fleur doesn't notice her at first. The older woman is more fixated with trying to soothe Louis, and Rose wonders why her aunt doesn't just do the obvious thing and silence the twit.

"Rose?"

Uncle Bill walks into the room, rubbing at his eyes. Aunt Fleur turns, startled, and then goes back to rocking the bundle in her arms, content that all is well. He looks at her, smiles, and says, "Louis keeping you awake, huh? It's OK. Fleur and I probably won't sleep through the night till he's at Hogwarts."

So, Uncle Bill understands why it's so important that she quiet him down, doesn't he? It's good. It makes this so much easier.

"He just doesn't shut up! I thought I'd come up here and quiet him down."

Her uncle blinks, apparently shocked, and then seems to realise she's holding a wand. She smiles, and adds, "Don't worry, Uncle Bill. I'll quiet him down."

Before Bill can react, before he can move, she's aiming the wand at the blue bundle, the words leaving her lips. She remembers them from the time her mother lit the fireplace earlier that evening – she's sure she knows the words.

" _Incerindo_!"

There's a noise like thunder and a fizzling burst of orange sparks burst from the tip of the wand, and she's almost instantly aware that she's gotten the spell wrong. The blast knocks her off her feet, and she feels the wand fall from her grasp, but she's more interested in the sight at the window.

Aunt Fleur's spun herself around, shielding the squalling child with her own body, and now she's screaming as loudly as her son. The sparks splatter across her back, leaving bloody blisters with blacked edges from neck to thigh.

"Fuck!" yells Uncle Bill, scrabbling for his own wand – he seems to have forgotten that the only thing he has on is a pair of pyjama pants – and then the doors comes crashing open. Uncle Harry is the first one in, instantly taking in the scene before rushing to Fleur.

As Aunt Audrey, the only Healer in the family, kneels beside her sister-in-law, Hermione simply stares at her daughter through eyes as wide as saucers.

.o0o.

" _Perhaps, we have only ourselves to blame. We could have killed her then, we could have locked her in Azkaban and thrown away the key._

 _But, she was just a child, and was forgiven._

 _How could we have known that by sparing her, the entire world would bleed?"_

 _-Draco's Memoirs, The Price for our Sins_

.o0o.

 **Author's Note:**

 **So this is the prequel to: The Broken Children, and it's going to be 30 chapters in length. It, much like the sequel, is a collection of drabbles. Next, I think we're going to be taking a look at either Hugo or Scorpius.**


	2. Hugo I

**Before the Fall**

 _-Hugo-_

 **.o0o.**

" _One of the hardest things in life is for us to kill the monsters within ourselves, those phantom creatures which whisper in our ears, without killing ourselves in the process._

 _Too often, we grow to hurt ourselves in an attempt to stave off the beast within."_

 _-Draco's Memoirs, The Price for our Sins_

.o0o.

It's a sunny morning. Through the windows, he can see green leaves swaying in the summer breeze. Gentle waves ghost along the shores of the Black Lake, and he smiles. Something tells him today is going to be a good day.

"Hugo, you coming?" yells Damon. The other boy is waiting at the dormitory door, one eyebrow raised. It looks like Miles and Niko are already gone, both eager to enjoy their first Saturday without homework.

"Yeah, yeah," he replies, grabbing his towel and wand. He thinks it'll be a nice day for a swim – it's steadily getting hotter as the sun reaches its apex, and the water looks deliciously cool. Easily falling into a steady stream of conversation with his roommate, the pair left Gryffindor Tower, ignoring the scowling Fat Lady behind them.

She's been rather grumpy all week. He thinks it's because she's finally managed, with the help of Violet, to drink their way through every drop of painted alcohol in the castle. It's a short walk to the lake, and it seems like most of the school seems to have had the same idea as the four of them.

"Took you two long enough," calls Niko, easily distinguishable by his Greek accent, and waves them over to a spot under the old oak. He rolls his eyes – Damon and he can't have been more than ten minutes behind them. Dropping his towel onto the pile of thing his friends have brought down with them, he asks,

"Well, are we going to sit here sunbathing or are we going swimming?"

"Sunbathing sounds promising," says Francesca, and Hugo starts as he notices her for the first time. She winks at him and he blushes, cheeks burning as she adds, "You boys go ahead, I'll mind your stuff and soak up the sun."

"What are we waiting for, then?" yells Miles, energetic as always as he strips of his shirt and tears off towards the lake. Laughing, the other boys strip and follow suit, and Hugo thinks he'll remember Francesca's giggles till the day he dies.

He's three-quarters of the way towards the lake when he hears a snicker, and pausing for only a minute, he hears a girl's voice.

"What is he? Fifteen? Bloody hell, you'd think he'd have grown out of his baby-fat by now."

Dismissing it, he leaps into the water, shrieking at how cold it is. He splashes at Miles, suddenly sucking in a breath as someone – he suspects Niko – grabs his ankle and dunks him. It's fun, and he's enjoying himself, but at the back of his mind he can still hear the girl's voice as if it's on repeat.

He finds himself looking at his friends. Damon is broad and muscled, the type of bloke who looks like he can lift Hugo off the ground without breaking a sweat. In contrast, there's Niko, as lean as any guy who goes for a swim every morning at the crack of dawn. Miles is the closest to Hugo, but even the blond has a flat stomach and clearly defined pectorals.

Still, there's nothing wrong with him, he notes at the end of the day as they trek back up to the castle. There's a bit of a chill on the air now, and he can feel gooseflesh prickle up along his damp skin. He's lost in his own thoughts, so when they reach the portrait hole, he's unsurprised that he doesn't have an inkling as to what the conversation is about.

"So, Hugo, what do you say to all this?" says Miles, clapping him on the shoulder. "Niko and Frannie huh – it's those abs of his, gets the girls going for him _and_ makes the rest of us look bad, am I right?"

"Sure," he chuckles weakly, even as Damon chimes, teasingly, that it's not like any bird's going to go after the Greek for his brains.

Again, he finds himself losing himself in his thoughts. He showers and dresses in a daze, nearly tripping down the stairs as he makes his way to the Great Hall for dinner. The sight of food, however, instantly perks him up, and his stomach lets out a loud grumble of agreement as he hurries to a free spot on the bench beside Damon.

The chicken tastes delicious, the mashed potatoes even better, and he feels stuffed to the brim by the time the dessert begins appearing. He thinks for a moment, wondering if he should skip tonight since he already feels so full, but then he sees that there's treacle tart.

He loves treacle tart. His mother often jokes that getting in between Hugo and a slice of treacle tart is more dangerous than poking a dragon in the eye. She's not wrong.

Hugo reaches for the serving knife, when he feels a chill run up his spine. Two delicate fingers fall upon his shoulder, and he shivers, even as he inhales the familiar scent of her perfume. Before he can react and slam his mental defences in place, she slips into his mind and casually rifles through his thoughts.

He knows without looking that she's smirking.

"Yes, Hugo, keep eating. It's not like you're fat or anything . . . or is it?" Rose simpers, blowing him a kiss before turning on her heel. "And do try and work on your Occlumency, little brother. You're not even putting up a fight these days."

Hugo's hand shivers, and he looks at the slice of pie, then down at his stomach. He swallows, and sets it down. Maybe, for once, Rose has a point.

He thinks perhaps a diet is in order.

.o0o.

" _I'd never been able to see my bones before._

 _I felt slim._

 _I felt good."_

 _-The Diary of Hugo Weasley_

 _(Recovered and published posthumously by Victoire Lupin)_


	3. Albus I

**Before the Fall**

 _-Albus-_

 **.o0o.**

" _Everybody wants to change the world. It's human nature._

 _The problem is that the more we try to fix something that's beyond repair, the more be break ourselves."_

 _-Draco's Memoirs, The Price for our Sins_

.o0o.

It begins as all great movements do.

A meeting in a quiet pub, a young man with black hair and green eyes, and a small group of his peers focusing on his voice and his voice alone . . . it's the first time the world sets their eyes on him cast in the role of the man who would be king.

(If his namesake had been present, he'd look back and realise that this is just another case of history repeating itself. The Knights of Walpurgis began in much the same way.)

It's not that there seems to be anything wrong with the group's ideals. There's no talk of Pureblood supremacy, of Muggleborn genocide, or the subjugation and enslavement of Muggles. Instead, he speaks of peace and equality, of a world without prejudice and discrimination where a man gets what he earns and nothing more.

He tells them of his utopian dream, leaving out that it will take nightmares to achieve.

Voice ringing through the silent pub, he touches on the prejudices held against all Slytherins for their parents involvement in the last war. Flicking his wand, he conjures a chart, and goes on to explain how tax rates are rising and employment opportunities declining, and the strange system in which the rich grow richer and the poor grow poorer.

His audience is engrossed, sitting riveted in their seats whilst sipping at their Butterbeer. He can tell by the looks in their eyes that they agree, that they know their world needs a change, a change that can only be brought about by force.

(If his Aunt Hermione had been present, she'd say that the meaning behind his words held more meaning than the words themselves. She'd frown and note how eerily similar his speech is to the manuscripts left behind by Gellert Grindelwald, how reminiscent her nephew is to the Greater Good movement.)

The world as a whole is changing, it has been for centuries, and in a voice laden with scorn, he reminds them that the only world that is not embracing the future is the one they live in. Magic may make them powerful, but there's been a sense of stagnation upon them for decades.

Albus Potter finally falls silent, looking at his enraptured throng, several of whom are members of his own family.

Lucy, eyes dead and listless as fresh pus oozes from the cracked and broken skin blossoming across her throat. Dark magic is all that keeps her alive, that keeps the Greyscale in check . . . she'll be loyal to his cause if only for the sake of her own life. Her sister, Molly, nods along as she contemplates his words – he wonders about her motivations, but she seems interested. Roxanne will be an issue, she's joining because of her love for the twins, Lysander and Lorcan, rather than out of loyalty to his cause.

He wonders if she'll be a liability.

Louis is silent, but he has his reasons for joining. The boy is young, but unlike the rest of the family, Albus knows what his cousin and brother do behind closed doors. He knows that, unlike James who is content to live his love in the shadows, Louis seeks a world in which they can both be free.

Then he meets her eyes. She is the greatest and most devoted of his followers, and she nods. Cruelty becomes her, and he understands that she's already worked out that in supporting him, she'll have more than enough opportunities to inflict pain on those who stand in their way.

He smiles, and squeezes his lover's hand. Cassiopeia responds in turn, running her free hand down his arm, and though her nod is miniscule, he knows that she is with him as she always has been. He can also see a sadness in her eyes, a glint of remorse deep within, and he understands. Her brother, his best friend, hasn't answered the summons.

Scorpius has chosen his side, as have they all.

The world around them decays. He's seen it in every cruel word thrown his way, in every bit of scorn and shrapnel of ire. Even his father, for all his protestations of equality and an end to prejudice, has looked at him differently since the day of his Sorting.

(If his father had been there, he'd say that it's never been the Sorting Hat that's caused the schism between the two of them to grow so wide. It's never been the world turning against him that's caused him to turn away from reason. It's always been the fact that, for years, Albus has always craved power over others. He's cunning, manipulative, and without remorse, and his cold interior has simply chilled the world around him to the point where he sees no warmth but that which he extends to the few people he still loves.)

"So I ask you," he says, his voice loud and commanding. "Will you follow me? Or will you stand aside and watch the world burn?"

They kneel without hesitation, professing their loyalty to the cause, to him, and within days the word begins to spread. From the merpeople of the southern seas to the centaurs who roam the north, across the length and breadth of Britain, the whispers spread till the entire country echoes with the words.

"A new Dark Lord has risen, greater and more powerful than all who have come before."

.o0o.

" _We could have intervened and put an end to this madness right then and there. We could have staved off the rebellion, the devastation, and prevented the Doom from ever laying claim to Britain._

 _But how could we, who had already sacrificed so much, even contemplate taking up arms against our own children? As of yet, there was no proof as to their true intentions, and so we blinded ourselves until it was far too late._

 _And even then, how was I to oppose them when my own daughter reigned as Albus' Queen of Darkness."_

 _-Draco's Memoirs, The Price for our Sins._


	4. Roxanne I

**Before the Fall**

 _-Roxanne-_

.o0o

" _Her heart belonged to two boys, identical in all ways but one._

 _One was bitten by wolf, but the other bore his brother's scars."_

 _-Draco's Memoirs, The Price for our Sins_

 _._ o0o _._

She kisses him in sunlight, with the warm breeze of summer tickling her skin.

He's sweet, of course he is, bright and cheery – and her fingers glide across his cheek as she leans into him, his hand falling to cradle the small of her back. The grounds of Hogwarts are deserted, the exams so close that most choose to spend their days with their noses buried in books, but he's planned a lovely picnic in an isolated cove, and there's no way for her to say no.

She laughs at his jokes, blushes at his shyness and coy appeal, and teases him into licking the chocolate of her fingers when she accidently grazes the tart. In some ways, it's the date that every girl, herself included, dreams of having. In others, she finds herself craving a little more.

* * *

She kisses him in moonlight, with the chill wind of winter biting her skin.

He's wild, nipping at her lip, and leaving her cheeks flush with desire. The Quidditch Pitch is empty, of course it is, at this time of the night, and she feels a certain thrill at being out so late past curfew. The school sleeps, or most of it does at any rate, she thinks as she catches sight of the owls gliding through the sky, and yet the thought of her bed is the furthest thing from her mind.

He's plotted this daring midnight flight and the latent Gryffindor in her screams at the opportunity he's provided, so she's come, for there simply is no way to say no.

She smirks at his risqué wit, her cheeks burning red at every inappropriate remark and forward gesture, and it takes but the slightest of mentions for him to open a bottle of Firewhisky, and drizzle it down her throat only to suckle it off before it disappears down her cleavage.

It's a date like no other, wild and untamed, and yet she finds herself yearning for the feeling of safety, and just a little bit of control.

* * *

He fumbles, inexperienced, trying to unclasp her bra whilst pressing his lips to hers. It's fun, to be honest, and she finds herself admiring his lithe body as she writhes beneath him, giggling into his ear as his fingers tickle her skin.

He doesn't last long and is spent all too soon, slipping off her to the side, gasping for breath as she decides to take control. Not giving him the chance to recover, she rolls onto him and guides his hands back down, nipping at his lower lip as he grins right back at her, and sets to work.

"Lysander," she murmurs, and he pecks her on the nose.

* * *

He slams her against the wall, jeans bundled around his ankles, and instinctively, she hooks her legs around his waist, letting him support her weight. He's rough – it's obvious he's done this before – and she pants, his muscles flush against her skin as he thrusts with wanton abandon.

They're at it so long that she's sure they'll be caught, that at any moment the doors will fly open and a prefect or professor doing the rounds will find them tangled together against a wall in the Prefect's Bathroom, and he's not giving her the chance to catch her breath between rounds.

It's harsh and rough and all that she desires in her most depraved dreams, and she melts as he smirks at her, raising his eyebrows for a second before leaning in to leave a hickey on her throat.

"Lorcan," she cries out, as she feels his teeth graze her skin.

* * *

She sighs. How can she help the way she feels? With Lorcan, there's a fiery passion, a roughness that she craves, and with Lysander, there's a gentleness that she needs. It's the butterfly kiss against the bruising make-out session, the iron gauntlet versus the silk glove. On mornings like these, as she looks at herself in the mirror, she wonders if what she's doing is wrong.

How long can she go before being forced to choose one over the other, or will the day ever arrive when the choice is made for her? She hopes for the latter - she doesn't think herself able to decide between the twins. Each of them represent what she needs, and only together does she get the perfect balance.

Isn't that what twins are, though, she reasons, if only to try and alleviate her guilt. One person split into two, and then, does it not make sense for her to love the qualities they each possess . . . It's silly, she thinks, for her to think in such a manner, but it's the only way she can rationalize it. It's not her fault but neither is it theirs, for the fault lies with all three of them and their fickle hearts.

So, troubled as she is, she wipes away her tears and fixes her mascara. She will face the day and she will get through it, as she always does, because the simple truth of the matter is that her heart wants what it wants, and despite the selfishness of it all, she can never deny it.

So, for her, it's alright to love them both . . . it has to be.

.o0o.

" _Often, an excess of love can be as devastating as an excess of hate._

 _For her, loving them both was suicide."_

 _-Draco's Memoirs, The Price for our Sins_


	5. Lucy I

**Before the Fall**

 _-Lucy-_

.o0o.

" _The Greyscale strikes in infancy, and affects one in ten thousand._

 _It is fatal._

 _However, no parent can accept that their child has been born to die."_

 _-Draco's Memoirs, The Price for Our Sins_

.o0o.

(He purchases three owls.)

She lies upon her bed, her breath escaping in rattling gasps, and her skin is as rough and grey as stone. It's a creeping sickness, she knows, despite her young age, and it's getting stronger. She's not scared, though, because Daddy's going to fix it.

He always does.

Her skin cracks as she moves her arm, a gout of yellow pus escaping the wound, and she bites her lip to contain her shriek of pain. It never goes away, no matter how many times her condition gets this bad, but it's alright. She can take the pain between her treatments.

Daddy can't fix her daily. It'll be noticeable. It'll be hard to hide. They'll put her in the hospital and let her slowly die if he gets caught, and she doesn't want to die. It's scary to die.

She remembers using plants at first – when she was still a toddler. She's older now, and she hates that plants don't have enough energy to repair her these days. Borrowed time, Mummy calls it, a prolonged torture, but Daddy disagrees. She likes Daddy better because of it. Mummy wants to give her a potion and put an end to her pain, she heard her say so a few years ago, but Daddy's keeping her alive and healthy.

Daddy's good that way.

"Hey Lucy," he says, walking into her room with a covered cage. His face is downcast, but she smiles at him. It's not going to be long now before she's all better, and then it'll be months before she gets this bad again.

He settles down on the side of the bed and points his wand at her, drawing it into complicated movements. She closes her eyes, not wanting to see, but she knows what it looks like all the same.

"Daddy," she whispers as the tendrils of green begin to seep into her skin. Her skin smoothens, the blight fading, and she can feel the rush of energy through her body as the slow, stony growths within her begin to fade. Her blood flows freely, feeling returns, her bones feel strong enough to bear her weight again, but she can't take her eyes of the covered cage.

Her father looks down at her with a tortured look in his eyes, and he strokes her cheek. She's able to sit up and hug him, a soft laugh escaping her mouth, and her father presses his lips to her brow.

Then he gets up and leaves, carrying the cage away as far away from his body as he can.

(The three owls within are little more than desiccated husks.)

.o0o.

" _Animam pro anima._

 _A life for a life._

 _It's old magic, a spell long since believed lost to the world. Would that it had stayed lost._

 _A father will pay any price to save his child, but what happens when the price becomes greater and greater with every spell?_

 _It began with plants. It ended with her mother."_

 _-Draco's Memoirs, The Price For Our Sins_


End file.
